


Gunpowder and Death

by PrinceDexter



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, NO CAPES, Original Character Death(s), Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDexter/pseuds/PrinceDexter
Summary: Follow Jason Todd through his journey as a soldier in the Iraq War and as he faces PTSD while back home.





	Gunpowder and Death

_“Don’t depend too much on anyone in this world because even your own shadow leaves you when you are in darkness.”_   
**_-Taqî ad-Dîn Aḥmad ibn Taymiyyah_ **

It was a hot summer night in Gotham City, to the point where kids are still playing with fire hydrants after dark despite the warnings from parents. It was 89°F but the humidity in the air made it feel like 96°F. Nothing compared to the intense heat of Iraq. But the weather was close enough to give him some remembrance to the distinct smell of gunpowder, the stench of death, the sounds of screaming from injured soldiers, Blackhawk helicopter rotors moving fast, and the sight of bullets penetrating skin. War. Just the feeling of heat could bring a man back to the battlefield. The medicine he took didn't help, being surrounded by family members that looked down on him made him feel like an outsider, a failure, the news channels talking about bullshit they don't know about. None of them knew about the trials he went through, the shrapnel that caught his head could've potentially had him become a vegetable. Luckily his father hired the best surgeons. The gunshot wound scars on his chest, his mental breakdowns after battle once the adrenaline left his body, going postal on his enemies, dogging foxholes in the hit afternoons in case of ambushes, burning oil wells behind him, they didn't fucking know a goddamn thing about what he did during his four tours in Iraq.

  
When he first stepped inside the barracks he noticed his comrades' eyes, they've seen too much, he can tell they came from dark places, just outsiders like him. Some cleaned their military issued M16A4s, M249 machine guns, M203 grenade launchers while others rested from the hot sun. One bunk was open, all the way in the back next to some douchebag holding onto this guy's picture of his girlfriend in her bikini. He placed his bag on his bank softly, before tearing the picture out of the man's hand before he even knew what was happened.

"What the-"

"Who the hell do you think you are you piece of shit?"

"Jason Peter Todd, Private First Class E-2. I don't really like bullies, douchebag."

The man easily towered Jason, standing at about 6'4 while Jason was 6 feet. But with the training Jason did during his younger years compared with his military Close Quarters Combat training would shit down the bastard's neck. But they both knew that if they fought, a lower pay grade and be demoted. The other grumbled and sat on his bunk while Jason handed the picture back to the other.

"Thanks. Name's Alexander. Alexander Weathers."

He held his hand out, from what Jason could see, it had calluses, dirty, rough. Just like his own.

"Jason Todd."

Jason gripped his hand hard, like what the men would do in Crime Alley. He felt a crack come from Alexander's knuckles.

"Ouch. Hard grip huh? Where you from?"

Jason could tell the man was from someplace hot with lots of sun. Maybe Mexico, Texas, New Mexico? It could've been a tan or his natural color. It didn't matter.

"Gotham City. You?"

"Havana. Which part of Gotham?"

"Crime Alley."

He could've continued until Staff Sergeant Briggs walked into the barracks dressed in head to toe in combat gear. He grabbed four men. Jason, Alexander, Douchebag, and some other soldier for patrol.

The desert was hot as they patrolled in their chocolate chip colored uniforms. They didn't wear their helmets, some wore boonie hats and baseball caps. Jason brandished a M16 assault rifle with a M203 grenade launcher with an ACOG scope. The squad walked for a few hours until they were being shot at from the hills. They immediately went into a prone position and barrel rolled out of the way behind boulders.

"Anybody have a mirror or a shard?!"

"I got one!"

Jason caught it with his Kevlar glove and put it around the large rock to find the sniper glint. He found it in the hills ahead of them at about a football field's length.

"Cliff! A hundred yards ahead! Cave fight meters above first cave! Do you see it?!"

All of them responded with a yes. Jason armed his grenade launcher and aimed at the cliff while the others fired for suppression. The slug went through the air at amazing speed, before erupting inside the cave sending a Soviet Dragunov sniper rifle in the air.

"1 confirmed kill on a towel head by Todd."

So the douchebag was also racist. Good to know.

Smoke rose from the cliff into the air for all to see. The soldiers watched as it went high and alerted hostiles of their position.

"Expect heavy reinforcements, fucking jihads love revenge, especially on American soldiers. We should head back while we can. Move out!"

The squad quickly rushed out of the area of operations. To be met with technicals with fifty caliber machine guns. Twenty hostiles armed to the teeth began to fire while they ran. Jason rushed to the HUMVEE they arrived in. He easily made it there first, his speed was incredible. He put himself into the gunner position, using the machine gun to apply covering fire. Bullets tore through the technicals, penetrating muscle tissue of the Taliban. One of the trucks became engulfed in flames, causing the other hostile to catch on fire. They were easily picked off by Jason.

The others made it into the vehicle and started the engine. The group immediately took off with the last technical behind them still shooting. Jason placed a bullet storm on the engine, coughing the engine to smoke heavily until the car started to slow down to a complete, full stop.

On his first day in the field, Jason had killed fifteen people. On his first day, Jason had his nightmares come back in full force. On his first day, Jason was promoted to Specialist.

Jason sat in his chair next to Cassandra during dinner. He smelt lobster, he looked down to see a quick flash of a MRE packet with a water bottle surrounded in sand. He stared heavily at the plate of lobster. Too rich for his taste, like his first time at the manor, he had lobster as well. Jason shakily held the fork and knife in separate hands, he picked his lobster apart and ate slight pieces of it.

Their voices were to loud, to the point of shouting. They mixed well with the Arabic shouting from months ago. Dick was the loudest, talking to Bruce about the next gala he was hosting. Stephanie and Tim were speaking about something, probably how their new teacher sucked ass. Damian was scowling at Dick. Cassandra was talking to Duke about something, Jason was too occupied. Terry began crying, his pacifier fell out of his mouth and onto the floor. Jason grabbed the rubber piece and cleaned it with a napkin, he placed it back in Terry's mouth. He quickly became quiet, obsessed with his toy. Terry was born while Jason was on his second tour in Iraq. Bruce and Selena must've hit it off or something because now Selina was pregnant with Helena. The loudness became too much for Jason's ears. He needed a smoke or something to take the edge off. He walked away from the table leaving his seat and headed up the flight of stairs to the balcony on the west wing. He took out a pack of Camels and placed one on his lips. He would always remain an outsider in his family, the black sheep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading...? Hope you enjoyed.


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